An Alluring Distraction
by anubislover
Summary: Altair has been spending too much time with the Apple, and Maria and Malik are worried. Thankfully, they come up with a plan to lure the Master Assassin out of his study and into Maria's waiting arms. After all, Altair is a jealous man, and Maria still has those courtesan robes...


Just a little something I thought up while reading The Secret Crusade. Maria spent way too little time in those courtesan robes, and we didn't get to see Altair truly appreciate them.

An Alluring Distraction

"I need your help."

Maria looked up from where she was sharpening her broadsword, pleased that all her years with Altair meant she no longer jumped when someone was able to sneak up on her. Still, she was quite surprised to find Malik at her door, looking as weary as Atlas holding the world.

Carefully, she set her blade aside and bade him sit. The two had started off with a rocky relationship, as he had not fully trusted her, and Maria did not care for his condescending manner. But the two had soon bonded over the desire to ensure the well-being of a single person: Altair.

"What is wrong?" she asked, forehead furrowed.

He ran his hand through his hair in irritation. "The Novice's obsession with that damned Apple is what's wrong! I know he wishes to understand it, to gleam whatever knowledge he can from the accursed thing, but surely you've noticed how it's become all he thinks of. I can count the number of times I've seen him leave his study on my one hand."

Sighing, Maria nodded. "Alas, yes. If you're here to ask me to snap him out of it, I'm sorry to say I've already attempted to coax him away several times. He brushes me off, claiming his work is too important. He hasn't even slept in our bed this past fortnight." Her lover had been holed up in his study for nearly a month, gradually becoming a hermit in his own home. Both she and Malik had tried frequently to draw his attention away from the infernal relic, but as time went on, it appeared to be more and more fruitless. He ate, slept, and basically lived in his study, leaving most of the day-to-day duties of leading the Brotherhood to them. It was both immensely frustrating and worrying.

Frown deepening, Malik replied, "I fear he is bewitched, so deep is his obsession." Looking her straight in the eye, he continued, "Yet you are still the one I believe can draw him away from it. His love for you is deep, and I feel it is our best weapon to use against the Apple's influence."

Biting her lip, Maria mulled over his words. Altair was a stubborn man with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and the Apple had clearly latched on to that. She had attempted to reason with him, entice him, and eventually threaten him, and none had done much more than start an argument that he seemed barely even aware was happening. It actually frightened her a bit, how little he seemed to notice the world around him. But giving up was not in her nature, especially when it came to the man she loved.

"Did you have something in mind, Malik?"

He nodded. "Altair is jealous, stubborn, and single-minded when something attracts his attention. Perhaps it's time we use these troublesome traits to our advantage."

A small grin came to her lips. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Finally, his frown morphed into a smirk. "Do you still have those courtesan robes?"

XXX

Logically, Altair knew remaining holed up in his study was a terrible idea, not only for his health, but for his sanity and position as Mentor. His brain would often point out that he had duties to attend to in the castle, novices to train, papers to sign, and so much more. His body would call for his soft bed, or to escape the stuffy sanctuary to run along the rooftops and climb the high towers, to stretch his muscles and fill his lungs with fresh air. And his heart cried out for Maria, to feel her lie beside him, to hear her lovely voice whisper his name, to take her in his arms and bask in her warmth and strength.

But then the Apple would show him more visions, whispering of knowledge he had not even touched yet, and he would be once again under its spell.

Standing up, he stretched, moaning in relief as he felt his back pop. Glancing about his study, he blinked, realizing how dark it had gotten, the last rays of the sun only barely peeking through the window. Where had the time gone? He recalled someone bringing him a plate of food, which he had clearly eaten, if the crumbs on his desk were any indication, but for the life of him he couldn't say when it was or who had brought it. It couldn't have been too long ago, as he did not feel hungry, but the gaps in his memory were worrisome. Still, he had to smile. He had gotten much done on his codex, and the mysteries of the Apple were so enthralling.

Noises were coming from outside, and enticed, Altair left his desk and peaked out the window. There was a bonfire in the courtyard, and music blended with the enthusiastic shouts of the men. From his tower he could see people dancing, the women in brightly colored garments mingling with the whites, greys, and tans of the Assassins. It appeared to be a celebration or some kind, though he hadn't a clue what for.

 _You're the Mentor,_ his mind cried out, sounding disturbingly like Malik. _How do you not know the comings and goings of your own castle?_

He frowned, realizing the unfortunate truth of that statement. And did Malik actually say that? He vaguely recalled the rafiq in his office, but he couldn't remember if it was that morning or three days ago.

 _You can't spend your whole life in this room,_ Maria's voice scolded, her accent tantalizing to his ears even when her words were harsh. _Your men are liable to question whether you even exist!_

…Perhaps he should give the codex a rest. Just for a few minutes. Enough to make an appearance and show everyone that he was still alive. Maybe he could steal a moment or two with his English lover, prove to her that she was not forgotten and show just how much he appreciated her.

He strode towards the door, but hesitated at the threshold as the Apple called from his desk. There was still so much to learn, so much to discover in its golden light. Its temptation pulled at him, and he took a half-step back, the call of knowledge coaxing him back.

 _One day, Altair,_ Maria's voice whispered, and he could almost picture her forlorn face as she left his office, _you may have to choose between that Apple and the people who love you._

Awareness fell over him like a bucket of ice water, and he fled the room, the image of his lover's despairing eyes breaking the relic's spell. He could finally recall her standing before him, begging him to take a break, then demanding, but he had ignored her, too deeply under the Apple's thrall. When was that? Was it yesterday? Last week? An hour ago? Time was a blur, but the further he got from his office, the clearer his mind became.

Malik and Maria had been right; the Apple was dangerous, and he needed a break. They did not begrudge him his research, but the longer he stayed in his study, pouring over the damn thing, wearing himself out and isolating himself from the outside world, the easier it would be for it to poison his mind.

A small smile touched his lips as he came to a large window overlooking the festivities. The beat of the drums echoed throughout the courtyard, giving the hot night a harmonious and dizzying pulse. He could see the people much more clearly, the men cheering and singing as the women danced in their colorful veils.

Emerald green caught his eye, and he did a double-take, not quite certain he wasn't still under the Apple's spell.

Maria was dancing with the women, her shapely body swaying side to side, hips matching the frantic rhythm of the drums. The bonfire cast an ethereal glow behind her, making her look like a goddess. And the garments she wore were ones he had burned into his memory, as he had been sure he would never see them again save for his wildest dreams. She was in her courtesan robes, the same ones she had worn years ago to infiltrate a Templar stronghold. Designed to seduce, the shimmering green fabric hugged her full chest and displayed her cleavage in ways her normal utilitarian tunics never could, the heavy gold necklace that rested over her collarbone and dangled between her pale breasts serving more to entice his gaze than guard against it. The drums beat faster, and his eyes were drawn to her hips rocking to the tempo, the skirts parting to reveal a long, shapely leg. Her head wasn't covered, her loose hair rolling down her back like a waterfall, the shawl instead twirling around her in time to the music. He had the urge to leap down and bury his fingers in those soft waves like he had so many times before.

Altair swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He had no idea Maria had kept that outfit. If he had known, he would have demanded she wear it more often. Well, not demand. Nobody demanded Maria Thorpe do anything if they wanted to keep their tongue. "Strongly request" was more accurate, and he would be happy to show her exactly how much he appreciated it. It looked absolutely stunning on her, and while should could arouse him wearing combat gear, to see her dressed so feminine, draped in silk and dancing so seductively…

Well, it sent the blood surging right down to his groin.

The song stopped, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as Maria finally ceased her enthralling movements. Yes, joining the festivities was suddenly looking like a very good idea. If Maria was going to continue dancing, he had every intention of getting a front-row seat to the performance. Perhaps he could persuade her to give him a more private dance later. He climbed over the rail, leaping to the ground and landing with hardly a sound, not that any of the partying Assassins would have heard him, as another song had just started. Making his way through the crowd, he finally broke through to the front, pleased that he was right in Maria's line of sight. He smiled as she flashed a sly grin, shaking her hips as she gave a little turn. However, his smile melted into confusion as she leaped forward and wrapped her shawl around Malik, drawing him into the throng of dancers with little resistance.

Altair could do little more than stare as his woman danced with his best friend, the one-armed rafiq smirking as he spun and dipped her, pressing her close as they swayed to the music. The heat of the fire left a thin sheen of perspiration on Maria's exposed arms, chest, and waist, making her almost glow in the flickering lights. Her eyes closed in rapture as Malik leaned down, whispering something only in her ear, causing her to grin even more.

Rage surged through the Mentor's veins, and he had the intense desire to cut off Malik's other arm. Clearly, one was too many if he was using it to touch _his_ Maria. Tearing his gaze away, lest he do something foolish, like attack his second-in-command, he found himself looking at the men around him, and even more white-hot fury pulsed through him. They were staring at her, lust in their eyes as she moved to the heady beat of the drums, taunting, tempting anyone with eyes and a pulse to touch, to taste, to sample what she was so alluringly putting on display.

He was a jealous man. Altair had accepted this about himself long ago, and often had to keep it in check. He had fought hard for what he had in life, and so much of it could be taken away in the blink of an eye. He'd once lost his status, his weapons, and nearly his life in a single instant, and while he had earned them all back and more, the sting of having everything he valued stripped away was not easily forgotten.

The logical part of his brain he knew Maria was loyal, and Malik would never try to steal her from him, and his men held far too much respect for both him and Maria to dare try anything.

But that didn't stop the more primal part of his brain from homing in on how Malik was male, attractive, and standing much too close to _his woman_ , and that his hand was wrapping around her waist _and his lips_ _descending towards her throat as if to kiss—_

With a snarl that didn't sound quite human, Altair stomped forward and grabbed Maria by the waist, pulling her away from Malik and pressing her against him until he could feel every inch of her curvaceous body. He glared at the other man, who simply gave a smirk.

"So nice of you to join us, Altair. We had almost left you for dead."

Altair bared his teeth and was about to snap out a reply when he felt a soft pair of lips at his neck. "You took so long, I feared I had dressed up for nothing," Maria whispered, an amused twinkle in her eyes.

Staring down at her, it took a few moments for him to fully register what had happened. "This is…for me?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Maria sighed. "Obviously. Do you really think I'd wear this thing for anyone else?"

Knowing better than to answer that question, he looked around. The music had stopped, and several of his fellow Assassins were grinning at him, apparently quite pleased to have pulled one over on their Mentor.

He glared at Malik. "This was all your doing, wasn't it?"

His best friend shrugged. "It got you out of your study, didn't it? Though I can't take all the credit." He winked at Maria. "That woman of yours can put on quite a show when she feels like it."

Grinning, the woman in question idly stroked Altair's chest. "I considered simply walking into your study and giving you a more private dance—"

"—But we agreed that wouldn't exactly serve the purpose of getting you out of that damn room."

The sound of her laughter would have been soothing in any other circumstance, but now it only served to frustrate him. Delicately, she tapped a finger under his chin and turned his face towards hers. "We'd been planning this for days. Perhaps if you ventured outside your study and into the rest of the castle, you would have learned about our little plot and saved yourself the embarrassment. Though I must say, Malik does make an _exceptional_ dance partner." Her eyes were dazzling in the firelight, dancing with mischief and adrenaline from her sensual show.

His brain didn't even have time to tell his body what to do before he had slung Maria over his shoulder and started marching towards the doors of the castle.

Malik called, "Where are you going? The party's just started!"

Altair didn't bother turning around. "I am taking _my woman_ to _my chambers_ and having _my own party_. One with much less clothing!"

Maria slapped his back in mock outrage as the crowd laughed behind him, and as he started up the stairs the music once again began playing, the castle apparently deciding that just because their job was done didn't mean they had to stop celebrating.

He grinned. _Let them have their fun,_ he thought, giving Maria's firm rear a smack, chuckling at her breathy gasp. Apparently, her dancing had been just as much of a turn-on for her. _I much prefer a private dance._

End

I may write a naughtier continuation of this on AO3, so if you're interested, please let me know.


End file.
